Moments In Between
by Yentruoc
Summary: Each chapter will be set during or after a different episode, often extending scenes, without changing any key elements of storyline. Fluff and thoughts, basically. Rated M for possible later chapters.
1. 5 01

Author: Yentruoc

Rating: T, I guess. A bit suggestive, but not more so than the show.

Summary: Extended scene from episode 5.01, leading up to the stapling moment.

Disclaimer: The characters and the storyline belong Shonda and co. I am merely borrowing for amusement. :) Some lines are taken straight from the show, as I've just extended to what could have happened that we didn't get to see.

***

"We're closing up your leg now."

Cristina led him down the halls and to an empty exam room, her hand lingered perhaps a beat too long on his shoulder she felt a flutter deep in her stomach. _Major Owen Hunt_; she liked the sound of him, liked the look of him even more. He limped passed her into the room onto the opposite side of the gurney in the room's center, catching her eye with a sly smile. Cristina closed the door behind them, keeping her back to him for an extra moment to grab a steadying breath. She was a professional; the best, the brightest in her program, she could surely handle keeping to these rules as she stitched up his thigh.

Cristina turned, and once again her breath caught in her throat as she found him undoing the fly of his pants, his shirt already quickly removed and slung over a nearby chair. The only thing better than this man in uniform, she was eager to find out, was this man half out of one. He caught her eye for another quick second as he let his pants pool around his ankles, snapping her back to reality. _Professional_, Cristina Yang was a _professional_. She stepped closer to his side of the room feeling his eyes on her as she collected supplies.

"Staples will be fine," his voice was low, gravelly, and she could hear his slight smile again in his tone; looked up to catch a quick glimpse of it. Their eyes locked a minute before he looked down, "I've had worse damage," his hand gestured to the wound on his thigh, a jagged cut that curved from beneath his green boxer briefs up to his firm buttocks. The smile still played on his lips and she knew that he had read her attraction, just as she was clearly reading his for herself.

Cristina cleared her throat before she spoke, smiling despite herself, "Alright then, Major Hunt," she sat down on the stool she had placed beside him, pulling her tray of supplies with her as she approached. She had the swab in her hand, which brushed against his as he lifted the seam of his underwear to allow her better access to the injury.

Cristina gulped at the view, the contact, and the sound of his voice as he spoke, "It's Owen, Dr. Yang." She looked up, and there was that smug smile again, which she couldn't help but return.

"It's Cristina," she looked back down at his leg, beginning to clean the wound as she grinned, pursing her lips together in dim attempt to hide the flirtation. She could feel his eyes on her as she gently, thoroughly cleaned the area, trying to keep her mind occupied on the cut rather than the firm expanse of surrounding skin.

Owen's eyes swept over her form in silence, capturing her wild black curls and deft fingers at work on his tingling flesh as if he was committing them to memory. "Okay," Cristina mumbled as she finished cleaning the area, standing up as she abandons the swab on her tray. Her back is to him as she fumbles for something, and Owen looks down at the tray before him and the stapler already waiting for use.

He doesn't know what makes him wrap his fingers around the sleek tool, makes him check that it has been filled. It may be the impatience he's acquired over the years, or the feeling of obligation to check on his patients left with doctors unknown to him. Owen thinks, rather, it has something more to do with the petite surgeon he shares the room with, and a deep desire he has to pull at least one more smile from her. In his line of work Owen is no stranger to pain, therefore the feel of the first staple going in with a slight grunt is only small shock to him.

"I'm gonna numb…" Cristina's voice trailed off as she catches sight of him, this already impossibly masculine man stapling his own wound before her, and for a moment she can hear her heart pounding loudly within her chest, arousal hitting along with surprise. "Wow! Uh, you're not numbed!" Cristina's eyes bug out as she stared at him; her breath catches yet again as he looks up at her.

"So?" His reply is simple, flippant, before he goes back to the task at hand, grunting softly as he embeds each staple within his own skin.

"So…ow!" Cristina's at a loss for clear words as she stares at him, wincing at the sight and his grunts, "Ss..Uh…ow!"

Owen looked up at her, reaching out his hand and the stapler, "I can't get an angle on these could you..?" It wasn't quite a lie, for it would be much easier for a separate set of hands to finish patching him up than his own. However, had it been anyone else in the room with him Owen most likely would have made due just fine. He waits with his arm outstretched as she looks down with a smile, a slight shake of head, and a chuckle.

"Okay," Cristina laughed as she emptied her hands and turns to grab the stapler from him, sitting before him on the stool once more as she braced one hand on his hard hip and leans forward with the tool in the other. She places the stapler, pulls the handle, and pauses as she once again hears a slight reaction of pain from him. Cristina looked back up at Owen with wide eyes, searching his face for permission to continue. He meets her eyes again, attempting a slight grin through gritted teeth as he nods at her in approval.

Cristina places one more staple with a smile, she savors causing another grunt to slip past his own curved mouth, and pulls the tool away at the sound of his voice, "Thank you". His words came out deep and breathy and he smiles through gritted teeth, his grin widening as the pain subsides. She keeps her gloved and on him for a few seconds longer as she sits back for a moment to both admire both him and their work.

Owens eyes stare down at her smile, watch her rise to her feet before she speaks, "Don't mention it." Their eyes meet, hold as she stands before him, small smiles still playing across both pairs of lips. His glare is hot, intense, and Cristina doesn't look away as the flutter hits lower in her stomach.

They're standing close enough to touch, close enough to feel the light warmth of each other's heavy breathing as they're eyes take each other in. Swept up in the other's presence, they fail to notice the sound of the door flying open, footsteps approaching. "Can I ask you something?" Callie's voice shakes them both out of their reverie.

Cristina turns to the sudden intruder, stumbling "Uh, uh, what?" Callie's eyes shift between the two, realization dawning on her that she's interrupted a seemingly private moment, and silently plans to ask Cristina about it later.

"Him, actually."

"Oh, uh," Cristina answers, as they unwillingly pull themselves out of their trance. "Yeah, sure I've got surgery, and uh," she turns back to face Owen, stapler now replaced with a syringe in her hand as she continues with a smile and heavy gaze, "Poke yourself."

Cristina doesn't need to turn around to know that his eyes are glued on her as she makes her way out of the door. She still tempts to look over at him, to catch one more glimpse of his cocky smirk while she has the chance; Cristina resists the urge. Callie's words to Owen seem to grow quieter as she strides down the hallway to surgery, the slight smile still playing across Cristina's lips. After all, maybe her roommate's request could have this mysterious army man sticking around a bit longer? At least until she had left the OR? Never the optimist, she let the thought slip from her with a sigh as she reached the scrub room. _Professional_, Cristina Yang was a _professional_.

***


	2. 5 02

Summary: Extending on the scenes in 5.02

Disclaimer: Same as in chapter 1, still not mine!

Author's Note: These last two chapters may be quite a bit different than the later ones, as with the way the C/O scenes are placed filling in the blanks ended up creating one big scene in the middle. Also, sorry for the big wait between chapters I had a wrist injury closely followed by a finger injury so typing wasn't my friend for a while!

***

Owen slid his phone from the front seat of his rental car. It was a disposable he had picked up at the airport to last him on his short leave from Iraq; he flipped it open and dialed the familiar number. When he heard her voice he smiled into the phone, "Mom, it's me."

"Owen," her voice seemed tired, yet relieved, "You called from the airport ages ago…I was expecting you home already. With the weather so bad you had me worried sick."

"Everything's fine," he spoke calmly, "I got caught behind a bad accident and I ended up helping out. I'm just over at Seattle Grace right now, I've just got to wait on a couple of patients."

"You know you're off duty now, Owen," her voice was weak, and immediately he felt guilty for not finding a moment to call earlier. He heard her hesitate before continuing, stronger, "Just get back home as soon as you take care of whatever you need to do, I won't stand for a second later."

Owen chuckled at that. There was one thing, it seemed, that never changed when he came back home. "Ok, Mom, I will see you soon."

He was in good spirits when he stepped back up the parking lot to the hospitals main entrance, noticing what he thought was a figure strewn before the entrance. His eyes skimmed to the shadow of dark curly hair spread across the pavement, the light blue scrubs the stood out against the black ice beneath her. _Her_; it was _her_.

Owen felt his heartbeat quicken as he feet picked up speed. It was until he had almost reached her that he saw the icicle imbedded in her chest. Once again he heard Cristina gasp, watched her hands reach blindly at the intruding object as her eyes snapped open. The worry that had initially struck him dimmed. Owen Hunt knew trauma, and he knew she would be just fine…Providing she has his aid, of course.

He couldn't help the smile from breaking across his lips as they're eyes met; her deep brown globes glazed over slightly in shock as she gasps beneath him. "A damsel in distress." The words are half to himself as he chuckles slightly and bends to pick her up. His arms wrap gently around her, and are careful to cause as little pain to her as possible as his eyes lock protectively to her wound for a moment. Owen smiled slightly as Cristina's small arm crosses her chest to grip at the back of his neck, grabbing a tight hold to him. He holds her firmly, tight to his body. When he's satisfied with her comfort his gaze slides back up to her face, his feet already taking them back within the hospitals confines. "Now, how did you get into a mess like this?" His tone was low, almost a whisper as he grinned down at the woman in his arms.

She gasps slightly again as their eyes meet and he instinctively pulls her closer at the sound. "So…not in…the mood…for…small talk…right now…"

Owen raised his eyebrows slightly, chuckling as her grip tightened on the back of his neck and she rested her head full against his shoulder, "Fair enough, Cristina Yang…we'll get you fixed up first, then."

***

"All of you just get out! Find me someone with a brain…" Cristina turned away from her interns as the scattered out of the room. She looks away, staring away from the door as she contemplates pulling out the icicle herself.

"Were those your interns? They look pretty scared of you." It's him, and for a second Cristina doesn't know if she's insulted by the comment, or just concerned of what he thinks of her.

"I'm not scary!" Cristina huffed. Owen nods, clearly amused, as his eyes scan the room and locking on her hanging x-rays.

He leans in to her slowly eyes tracing the lines of her face, his hands shifting closer to her exposed flesh. Owen breathes her in. He braces one arm on the bed beside her, shifts his other to the icicle, allowing his fingertips to lightly graze the bare inch of her stomach as he moves.

She holds in a slight gasp as she speaks, "Wha…What are you doing?" It comes out more hushed than she meant it, breath caught in the back of her throat as it seemed to do around him. She looks back up to his face, and there's that cocky smirk again. Cristina tries to catch herself; tries to keep her look even and unaffected, yet can't help but melt into his gaze.

Owen stares down at her, watching her resolve slip away, her eyes meeting his intensity. He steals that moment, not for what he truly desires, but for what he knows it should be. After all, he was still a doctor; still a man of duty and honor. She was his patient, in this moment, and as she was his patient he would take very thorough care. His eyes take in every bit of her face, fingers slide around the cool, smooth surface of the icicle. He wraps a tight hold on the slippery object as he quickly yanks upward.

Cristina gasps, mouth falling open, head throwing backward to rest against the pillows. Her right arm springs forward from her hair to instead grasp at his shoulder. He pulls the icicle away from her, sliding his free hand from the side of the bed to the wound on her chest. He is gently compressing, massaging the chilled wound as she speaks, "Ugh…That's my icicle…" Her voice is breathy, her eyes wide open as she responds in shock.

"Yeah…" Owen's tone echoes her own as his gaze slides over her; trailing from her raven locks to the exposed inches of abdomen beneath her open wound.

"You took out my icicle," she still seems stunned as she speaks, until staring up to catch his nod she catches his stare. Cristina's voice hardens, "I didn't give you permission to do that!"

"So?" his lips curl up slightly in amusement as he replies, one hand still tending to the sore on her chest, while the other still grasps the stick of ice. He considers shifting for a moment, to put the offending object down and better tend to her with both hands. Her hand is still locked to his arm, though, her fingers firmly curved over his muscle as she lay beneath him. He supposed he could hold the icicle for at least a bit longer.

"Cristina?" Meredith interrupted softly, standing in front of the bed. Cristina's eyes shifted to her, taking in her friend's stance and tone.

"He died," Cristina's voice was breathy, defeated as she stared at the other woman.

Meredith nodded, her tone still hushed, "There…was nothing else we could do. I have to get back." She turned to Owen then, who had released the icicle and was now using both hands to tend to Cristina's wound. "You've got her?"

"Yeah," Owen nodded at her, "She should be back all patched up in no time."

Cristina had laid her head back against the pillow as the other two exchanged words, and her hand had slipped from Owen's arm to rest above her head. She barely noticed when Meredith slipped back out of the room quietly.

"You doing okay with the pain?" Owen questioned, although he knew her shift in mood had nothing to do with her own well being.

"Yeah it's fine," Cristina answered but continued to stare off instead of meet his gaze. "The morphine everyone insisted on giving me earlier is still working and the whole ice thing has kept me pretty numb."

She heard the smile in his voice as he replied, "Okay, I won't give you too much freezing then, but if you feel anything let me know."

"Skip it," Cristina shook her head and turned to face him. Owen raised his eyebrows at her words, and she gave a short laugh, "This is not me being competitive with the guy who stapled his own leg without being numbed, this is me _already_ numb. Numb and high." Owen remained silent, but slight smile touched his mouth at her words, "Besides, if I feel anything I'll just yell and kick you out like I did my interns."

Owen laughed at that as turned to grab the supplies off his tray. "Alright, straight to the stitches, then."

"Really?" Cristina teased, "Your not just gonna try to slap me together with a few staples?"

"Staples are fine for me," Owen looked down at her brown eyes, his voice dropping slightly, "On you, Doctor? A scar like that would be a shame."

Their eyes were locked, held as a slight blush crept across Cristina's cheeks. He looked away after a moment, regrettably, as he began delicate stitches along the cut. She watched him work for a few moments, her eyes were focussed closer on his face then upon his moving digits. Suddenly it dawned on her that she was staring, and so she turned away.

Her thoughts immediately fell back to the patient she had lost; the patient she had killed. She had been prepared to lose patients in her career as a doctor, and had lost many already when their deaths had been inevitable. Cristina had aided in this man's death, perhaps even caused it.

"Tell me about trauma surgery?" Cristina's gaze slipped back to Owen's; she needed a distraction. Owen Hunt, she had already discovered, was a prime source of just that.

"Trauma?" Owen breathed out as he looked back up at her, "Quick and dirty," Cristina could hear the passion in his tone. "There's no time to make things pretty," he snipped off the end of her stitches, "No time for mistakes." He turned briefly to discard the snipping and kept his glare elsewhere as he spoke, "Drop your pants, you need a shot of Cefazolin I.M."

She complied dutifully, and Owen grinned as his eyes trailed over the newly exposed skin. He was thankful that she was facing away, allowing him a peak at her flawlessly curved flesh. She was still turned as she spoke, "No time for mistakes, huh?" She looked up, challenging him, "So what, you don't make mistakes?"

"I make mistakes and people die," he pauses his actions, catching her look and holding it. Cristina sighed and looked away again as Owen gently pierced her skin with the needle. His fingertips gently slide over her skin as he covered her back up.

"I'm the best surgical resident in my program and…" she turned to face him again, to face his reaction to her truth, "Today I killed a man because I couldn't do a stitch."

"In the field, you do what you can, you work with what you have," Owen disposes of his gloves, before turning once again to face her. "Mistakes are how you learn."

Cristina looked away, lulling over the phrase in her mind. She was a logical person; she believed in science and medicine and knew very well that one does, and would, learn from past mistakes. Cristina Yang, however, did not make mistakes in medicine. In friendships, yes, in her family as well, and most definitely Cristina had made more than her fair share of mistakes in her love life. Even her assisting of Burke throughout his tremors could be considered a personal misjudgment; after all, the surgeries themselves had been flawless.

Up until today, until this moment, medicine had been her one haven; the one thing in which she constantly excelled. She couldn't help but feel like Owen Hunt already understood this of her as he moved around the room quietly, collecting new supplies and disposing of the old she could feel his gentle glare on her on occasion. She felt protected, watched over by this man so new to her life, and for the first time it was a feeling that she readily would welcome.

He didn't speak until he had stepped around to the other side of the gurney. New gloves were adorning his hands and compressor and ointment were held within his grasp. She looked up at him, and he smirked again; still flirtatious, but one more of comfort. "How is that feeling?" His head gestured to the stitches.

"Alright, still numb," the softness in her voice caught her off guard.

"Just a little ointment, and I will cover it up and then you'll be all fixed up," Owen's grin widened as she smiled back. The guilt was still with her, but he could tell his presence was helping more than she originally let on. He looked down and began applying the cream gingerly, feeling her eyes still on him he peered up on occasion to meet her smile.

"You know," he spoke with a grin, "You'd be good in the field." It was a statement of truth, for in the short time he had known Cristina Yang he had found her both a surgeon of great skill and a woman of intense strength. The idea of having her company on his next tour of duty was also rather swaying.

Cristina just grinned, her other fingers toying with the monitor clipped onto her left hand as her mind wandered to fantasies of the redheaded man before her. His lips on hers, his hands slipping more northward, sliding under the thin fabric of her hospital gown…

"Now that you've got this battle scar," he pulled his hands from her, grabbing her out of her fantasy, "You'd fit right in."

Cristina chuckled at that, "Oh, right."

"I'm serious," Owen leaned forward placing the bandages over her closed wound. Hoping he didn't sound desperate for more time with her—not that he wasn't—he

continues, "You should ditch this place and go for the adventure." She doesn't answer yet, merely keeps grinning up at him as their eyes meet once more. Owen leaned in further into her, "You're telling me this place gives you a rush, a high?"

Cristina looked away for a moment, ponders the question as she thinks back to past days at Seattle Grace Hospital. "Yeah, yeah it does." Cristina didn't think she could live without the scent of the ER rooms, the anticipation of a surgery she had always longed to take part in.

Owen nodded down at her, and with her answer he felt like maybe life after the military wouldn't be so bad. Especially, he couldn't help but think, with her around.

The sound of the door opening shook them both from the moment, and the Chief entered speaking, "Oh, Dr. Hunt, there you are." Owen spun to face the other man, waiting for him to continue. "How's the gash on that leg?"

"Uh, Dr. Yang took good care of me, excellent care," he couldn't help but speak highly of this woman, especially with knowledge of her concern of approval from her superior.

Cristina sat up as the men spoke, allowing her fantasies of Owen's hands running over her to slip from her mind as she covered her abdomen. Owen glanced at her with his praise, and she felt a slight blush arise in her cheeks before she looked away, tucking her legs beneath her.

"I made a few calls," the Chief continued, seemingly oblivious to the others' slight interactions, "They speak very highly of you at Maryland Shock Trauma. I also heard a story that you constructed an O.R. table from an exploded Humvee in the middle of the desert. Is that true?"

Owen nodded humbly, although he was curious of Cristina's impression, as he could feel her stare bore into him. "Well, you have to be innovative in the middle of the desert."

Cristina grinned up at him; apparently the pen trache wasn't the only trick this man had up his sleeve.

"You have to be innovative everywhere." The older man continued. "How would you like a job, Dr. Hunt?"

Cristina's eyes sprung from her lap and back up to the soldier before her at the comment. Owen stood, slightly stunned as he imagined staying…seeing her every day. If she could feel a rush here, maybe he could too. After all, he knew he felt a rush with her, and perhaps that already was more than enough. He glanced at her once more, letting the thought slip from his mind as memory of obligation returned to him. Owen was a man of honor, and one of his words. He was also a man who was passionate for his work.

"I appreciate the offer," he answered dutifully, "But I am due to go back to the sandpit, finish my tour."

Cristina's stomach dropped, withdrawing the breath she hadn't even realized she was holding at his words. Owen would not be saying, and she was mad for even hoping he would. Perhaps it was even for the best, she thought, as she could see him being trouble.

Richard Webber nodded, extending his hand to the other man, "Well…Good luck to you."

"Thanks," Owen smiled softly as they shook hands, and Chief Webber exited. The Chief shut the door behind him, leaving the alone once more.

Cristina shifted to hang her legs from the table as he turn to dispose of his gloves. He shut the lid loudly, pausing with his hands pressed down and his back towards her. She was startled slightly by the loud sound, and paused as well, curious to his odd behavior. He took a deep breath then, the reality of what could be there last moments together hitting him as he reached upward to close the blinds. He would take a plunge for her…if only it could last more than a few moments.

He turned his head, glaring back over his shoulder and she furrowed her brow at his movements, oblivious that his intentions matched her own desires. "What?"

With that he turned, striding the two paces to meet her, his hand reaching up to tangle in her mass of dark curls. He brought her mouth to his firmly, pressing his lips to hers as both their bodies tingled from the simple relief—a desire for more. He paused again for a moment, extending the first meeting of their lips, both savoring the feeling and allowing her a moment to back away. She didn't slide away, but responded instantly in earnest, her hands sliding to his firm arms as their lips met again and again. He turned his head, one hand still snaking through her hair as the other rose to cradle her face. She rose a hand to his neck, pulling him closer as her legs shifted open and he slid between them. Her heart pounded loudly in her chest as she felt him against her, their lips moving hungry with excitement before a pain from her wound brought her back to reality.

Cristina pulled away, hands still on his arms, unwilling to let him slip to far. "I…I don't even know you." The words came with a slight laugh, which diminished as she took in his flushed cheeks and cocky smirk as his hands stilled over her skin.

"So?" His smirk grew, eyes staring so deeply into her own that Cristina felt again that she couldn't breathe. She smiled back, not looking away as his hand rose to cup her cheek through her hair once more, his eyes memorizing her features.

Owen turned away, opening the blind and steadying his breath as he looked to the hall outside. He knew she was watching him, knew he would have much trouble leaving her if he was to look back at her face once more. So he wiped his hands, and breathing evenly, he strode purposefully to the door.

Cristina eyes followed him leaving, they were glued to his refraining figure through the open doorway as he nodded to her colleagues and disappeared around a corner. She took in a full breath before shaking her head, and looking down to remove all of her wires. All the while, a dreamy smile gracing her lips.

***

It had been late by the time he had climbed the small steps, yet Owen knew that his mother would be awake and waiting for him inside. He leaned forward and knocked quietly and sure enough within seconds the door had flung open and the small woman had flung herself forward into his arms.

"Owen," She chided gently as she held, "I've raised you too well, making me wait so you can keep helping others."

Owen answered with a laugh, "Sorry, Mom, some things I had to tend to. It feels good to be home, though." Sarah Hunt let go of her son and led him inside his childhood home. He locked the door behind him as he entered; the scent of his mother's home cooking still lingering in the air.

"Well your dinner is in the fridge," Sarah smiled as she wiped away a few tears, "All your favorites, let me go heat it up, you've had a long day. Unless you've already eaten, it is rather late."

"No, Mom," Owen smiled, "Dinner sounds great."

"Tell me about what held you up then? You said there was an accident?" The older woman gasped as she caught sight of the bloody rip hanging on the side of his pants. "What happened to your leg?"

"With the black ice there were accidents all over," Owen moved in to the kitchen and unbuttoned his shirt as he sat down at the table. "We lost one man, managed to save the other two. My car was right behind the accident, it's not in very good shape but I'll be just fine it's just a cut. There was…uh….one of the uh surgeon's there…she was nice enough to help me close it up." The stammer in his voice at the simple thought of her surprised even himself.

"She?" Sarah turned back to him at that with a slight chuckle, which increased as she saw the red blush hit her son's cheeks. "Ah, I see. Well I guess I really have to excuse your lateness then."

Owen chuckled uncomfortably, "No, it uh…it wasn't like that." Owen paused for a second as his mind wandered back over the details of their kiss; her soft lips, and nimble little fingers. He shook it off, wondering for a second why he even bothered lying about it; this was his mother he spoke to after all, and she would see right through his attempts. "There was another injury, right after I called you…she fell and had an icicle impaled in her chest, actually, they could have used the extra hands. I mean, with one of their own down and everything."

"Mmhmm," was Sarah's reply as she put the plate down before him, "Well I hope the poor dear's all right."

"She'll be fine," Owen smiled as he dug into his meal, "She was lucky, actually, it missed all of her organs so we were able to just pull it out and stitch her up." He paused for a second, "The Chief there…he offered me a job."

"And you wanted to take it?"

"I still have my tour left," Owen's gaze shifted down to his plate, not wanting to see the sadness hit his mother's features. "And I wouldn't want to change that, it's what I signed up for and it's where I belong right now. But…for a second…" Owen chuckled a bit before deciding to come clean, "It would have been nice to have a try at getting the girl."

"Maybe when you're back for good, then." Sarah laughed as she shook her head, "Impaled on an icicle…I thought stuff like that only happened in stories."

"Yeah," his smile was warm as le looked back down to his plate, "Me too."

***

Meredith hadn't stayed with her for long. They had both had an exhausting day and although she tried to hide it, Cristina's friend had seemed eager to return home to Derek. Cristina didn't mind being left alone; her mind was spinning she was still slightly under the influence of morphine, and sleep would be a welcome solace to the day. Meredith had clicked off the light in her exit, and now the room remained lit only from the light glow of the television. Meredith had found the channel, paying little attention and stopping at the first gory picture she had found.

Cristina smirked as her eyes focussed on the box for the first time that night; men in camouflage flanked with guns and ammo ran across the screen. A war film seemed like an appropriate end to her day and would be a small, however unneeded, reminder of the man who had stormed into her world. He had kissed her, and she wondered once again what would have become of it if her logic hadn't gotten in the way. There was definitely something about Major Owen Hunt, his name repeating in a blur through her head.

Her eyes focussed on the screen once more to catch the men running, in helmets anyone of them could pass as Major Hunt, and her smile widens as she thinks of the red hair that would hide beneath his. Her smile faded then, as she took in the men's surroundings and she remembered that he would not be returning Seattle Grace tomorrow. He was leaving; he was already long gone from her world the second he stepped out of that exam room.

Cristina heard a quiet knock and smiled slightly as Callie held the door ajar and peered in. She gave a slight wave to signal she was still awake and Callie stood up fully and entered the room. "So," the other woman began, "Not only did you get impaled by an icicle today but you also met a boy. And by boy I _definitely_ mean man." Callie was perched on the end of the bed with one leg down and the other tucked beneath herself. She grinned widely at Cristina, her eyebrows raised as she awaited a response.

Cristina chuckled slightly, and rolled her eyes as she looked down, "_Definitely_ a man, yes, but definitely nothing."

"Nothing? When I walked in on you two today I seemed to be interrupting two very intense cases of 'take me now' eyes. That was clearly not 'nothing'. You need to get laid; it's been far too long for you."

"He's in the army, Callie," Cristina shook her head as her eyes geared back to the television for a moment. "He's leaving for Iraq and very soon. Therefore it is—no, it was—most definitely nothing."

Under more sober circumstances Cristina may have been able to hide the small smirk that crept upon her lips as she spoke of him. The small smirk that she would instantly realize would give her away.

"_Right_," Callie nodded, "So…I'm going to trust your word on this one. And let me just say that as your friend and roommate I will totally resent you if you leave me with that crap and go off and tell Meredith all the dirty details of 'nothing' just because she's your person." Callie grinned as she stood up. "Night."

"Night," Cristina snuggled deeper under the covers as Callie left the room, and for a second she contemplated telling Callie about the kiss. As private as she was, a part of Cristina wanted to talk about it; she wanted to voice the details of his hands through his hair, strong thighs pressed against her own and his mouth's gentle assault. A part of her had wanted to tell Meredith as well, but the rest of her—most of her—wanted to keep it to herself for at least a bit longer. If Owen Hunt wouldn't be returning than at least she would have that.

Cristina closed her eyes ran over the memories once again her head, reliving the sensations of his brief touch. She held her thoughts for a moment, opening her eyes to focus on the picture of the soldiers in some far off land one last time before tapping the remote beside her. The darkness flooded the room as Cristina closed her eyes once more, grin still upon her lips. She was drugged and exhausted, after all; Cristina could allow her fantasies to stay alive, at least for this one night.

***


	3. 5 05

Summary: Extends on the end of episode 5.05 'There's No "I" In Team'

Disclaimer: We all know the characters and story belong to Shonda and ABC, etc. Also, anyone there's a bit at the end that was taken from one of Joe's blogs that the Grey's writers post after episode. It was just a bit of an extra on the end of the episode, which I expanded on a bit more.

***

Owen hadn't been thinking about drinking when he left his apartment. He hadn't imagined visions of his time before his last tour to hit him as we went about his new life in back home. He had not thought much about calling Chief Webber mere days after returning from Iraq; it was simply a gut reaction, a call he had always planned on making when he returned from duty.

In Iraq he had often thought of her, every time he allowed his thoughts to wonder or his eyes to drift to the jagged scar across his thigh her face would clearly picture in his mind. She had bewitched him; less than an hour with this woman was enough to have him planning on returning home to swiftly make her his.

By the time he had touched back on American soil, however, Owen had scarcely noticed he was still going through the steps to see her once more. He had needed the push; to move forward into a new place with blood and gore that he _could_ repair. He needed to erase the man he used to be, and the men that he had lost. It was just a job; or at least it had been in the moment he had picked up the phone.

When he stepped foot inside the hospital a day later he had been expecting the slight discomfort. It was a simple shock that he was in fact home and would be for a long enough to consider moving on with life. _Work_. He would be moving on with _work_. Stepping foot through the ER as he exited his meeting, however, Owen's eyes would catch sight of the exam room he had stood in with her, the gurney he had kissed her upon. He remembered suddenly what had drawn him back to this place to begin with. He saw her face again; felt her lips pressed against his, her fingers grasping at the back of his neck. He could hear the biting sarcasm in her voice and picture the gentle heat in her deep brown eyes as she looked up at him from the gurney. The memories replayed in his mind as they had in Iraq…in Iraq where only he had been spared…

His feet had taken him straight to the small bar he had noticed earlier. He had brushed past the crowd without taking notice, finding an empty spot in a dark corner of the bar. He wasn't there to make friends; Owen was there to mourn them.

***

"There are no real men left in the world, Joe." Cristina stood from the barstool sliding her jacket over her shoulders, "See ya." She spoke to the bartender. She turned, lifting her hair from under her collar as she headed in the direction of the door.

"Shot and a beer; whiskey."

The voice was deep, gravelly, and instantly familiar. Cristina halted in her tracks, turning to face the bar.

"You know what? Better make it just the beer." Owen's muscular build hunched over the end of the bar. His eyes were facing downward as he spoke to Joe, grabbing a couple of peanuts, "I, uh, start work tomorrow."

A small smile spread across Cristina's lips as she held in the sight of him, the sound of his voice. Owen was home, and from the sounds of it he had taken the Chief up on his offer and was heading back to Seattle Grace Hospital very soon. She stood frozen for what could have been minutes, a part of her dazed, another part of her hoping that the longer she stood the more chance of him seeing her.

She pictured him catching her eyes with a smile, making her bold enough to go over to him. He would buy her another drink and when it had gotten late his strong hands would slide her jacket, once slipped off during conversation, back over her arms. He would walk her out of the bar with his hand lightly placed on her lower back, and upon exiting the bar it would find way to hers. And maybe...just maybe, they would make it only a few steps from Joe's before he would grab her, pin her again the brick wall and kiss her fiercely, like he had once before. One hand would grasp desperately at her waste, the other clutch at her curls, as her own fingers tangle through his red hair and his tongue blends with hers in a fury…

"Cristina?"

The voice wasn't his; it was Joe's as he stepped up behind her. Cristina sighed, still dazed as she replied, "Uh, yeah? What?"

"Everything okay?"

Her eyes locked back on Owen's form as she replied with a simple shake of her head. She continued out of the bar slowly, leering back at him over half-turned shoulder as she stepped. Everything was not okay; Cristina Yang had never been one for romantic fantasies. Sexual fantasies, fine, and Cristina would be free to admit she had had a few involving the military man who had burst into her world that few weeks ago. Now, seeing him again…seeing him again she could not deny wanting more than to feel his firm thighs pressed against hers, to feel the heat, the sweat, and the release of his touch. She wanted his lips, his mouth, his fingers tangled through hers, his eyes glaring into her own. Cristina wanted the flirtation, and his cocky smirks, his strong arms to hold her as they had on that first meeting.

She stilled for a beat as the door to the bar closed behind her, shutting her eyes for a moment as she inhaled deeply. Cristina was not one for relationships; they were painful and messy, and maybe you could never get to know the other person enough…maybe you could never let them know you enough. It didn't hurt to fantasize, though. As she continued on her pathway home Cristina did just that, her hand subconsciously flexing and tingling at the thought of his palm pressed firmly against her own.

***


	4. 5 06

Summary: Expands on the end of episode 5. 06 'Life During Wartime', after Owen tells her about the loss of his platoon.

Disclaimer: Everything and everyone belongs to Shonda Rhimes, ABC, etc. and definitely not me!

***

Owen had headed straight back to the ER to resume his duties. When he found the area quiet and patients already cared for he had retired to his new office to get started on paper work. He needed his mind off of the two subjects that were on constant rotation in his mind. No more thoughts of Iraq, no more of Cristina. He would just keep moving, keep working.

She had believed that he didn't remember her name; apparently oblivious to the jump in his heart at first sight of her, a reaction that surely had been visible on his face. He wished he could have let it sit at that. Wished he could have let her believe that he was the kind of man to kiss a pretty woman without a second thought. Things would have been much simpler that way. Instead, he felt his heart pine for her acceptance, and he yearned to comfort her insecurities. The words had tumbled from his mouth in a haze, only slightly registering her reaction. She had to know. She had to know that he was not that man, and that she was so much more than that woman. And Owen Hunt knew, he had to let go.

***

Cristina had sat in the locker rooms for what felt like hours, one leg curled under herself as her mind turned over the events of the day. Her patients were saved, but only to be put to death, the fact they were pigs and not humans brought only little comfort considering the other events of the day.

Owen was back; just last night she had gone to bed with thoughts of reuniting with a fiery kiss playing through her mind. Today she felt a nauseating pit in the whole of her stomach as she thought of just what he had come back from.

Pigs or handsome military doctors; today they both led to the same nauseating feeling. Today, Cristina Yang felt completely and utterly helpless.

She slid herself from the bench at last, slinging her bag across her shoulder before heading towards the door. She only paused once as she left the building, as her eyes scanning the ER to catch a quick glance of red hair disappear into a doorway. Funny how after touching it only once she could recall just how it felt between her fingers.

Her feet took her to Joe's before she had even processed where she was heading. She slid into an empty stool, cracking a slight smile at Joe as he slid her choice drink onto the bar without a word.

"Have I told you you're wonderful lately," Cristina spoke dryly.

"Tough day at the office, dear?" Joe grinned, Cristina shrugged with a low chuckle. "Wouldn't have anything to do with Dr. Tall, Ginger, and Handsome would it?"

Cristina stared up at the man, "Wh—what?"

"Save it, Yang," Joe laughed as he poured a beer for another customer. "Remember, I caught you going all deer in the headlights last night at just one glimpse of him. Lucky you got out of here before he saw you and your jaw on the floor made a great first impression."

"Please, my jaw was not on the floor, I just wasn't expecting him back on this side of the world any time soon…or in my hospital ever again, actually. That's all, no big deal."

"Oh, so you've met before then? Must have made quite an impression." Joe grinned as he watched Cristina's expression soften. Yes Owen Hunt had made quite and impression, indeed.

***


End file.
